


Intangible

by loracarol



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Coco Locos Angst Off 2018, F/M, Future AU, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 15:42:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15889041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loracarol/pseuds/loracarol
Summary: Being held hostage by a house isn't the weirdest thing Imelda's had happen, but it's up there.





	Intangible

“Do you really think she’ll show up?” Rosita asked, fiddling with her phone.

 

“Her Mom can’t keep her from _all_ field trips, right?” Julio responded, holding tightly to the front strap of his messenger bag. It wasn’t completely fair; Imelda Rivera didn’t keep Coco from going on _all_ field trips, but she did have a very strict set of rules for what her daughter could and couldn’t do. Music was out, dancing was out, theater was out… Sometimes Señora Rivera could be convinced to let Coco go to the beginning of a field trip, if someone could take Coco home before the cultural expeditions featuring any of the forbidden topics. Sometimes Julio wondered why Coco wasn’t just homeschooled, with so many rules surrounding her, but he figured it was because Señora Rivera was too busy with her shoe shop.

 

He was glad Coco wasn’t homeschooled; he liked her, and maybe he even _like_ -liked her, just a little bit. Whenever she wasn’t around, life was just a little quieter, and while he liked the quiet, he liked Coco more.

 

“Julio! Rosita!” Coco said, running up to where they waited to get on the bus, face flushed. “It took a little bit of convincing, but I got my Mamá to send in her permission.”

 

“Oh yay!” Rosita said, giving Coco a quick hug, “This is going to be so exciting!”

 

“What does your Mamá have against de la Cruz, anyway?” Julio asked, as the teacher marked them off on her tablet, and let them board. He knew that de la Cruz was a banned topic, but he’d never known why, he’d just gone with it so that he could keep being friends with Coco. But this, he didn’t understand; they weren’t going to a concert, or a movie, or anything that was banned.

 

Coco stared pensively out the window, quiet for long enough that Julio was afraid he’d offended her. When she did speak, it was quiet, and they had to strain to hear her. “I finally found out,” She whispered. “My… My Papá was traveling with him when he left us.”

 

Oh.

 

There was another rule in the Rivera household; you did not mention Coco’s Papà, not in any way shape or form. You did not even _hint_ at that man. The way he abandoned his family… He was the reason for all the bans.

 

“Anyway, we’re not going there for _him_.” Coco said, set of her mouth mulish. “We’re going for his _house_ , and _Tecnología Méjico_ says it’s the most complex smart house in the world.”

 

Julio, who had done the same homework, just nodded.

 

“Well, until we get there…” Rosita said, pulling three headsets out of her bag. “I brought some VR goggles, and I brought some movies, and some games. Which would you rather?”

 

Coco’s frown slowly turned into a smile. “Thanks Rosita,” She said, taking one pair. “What movies did you bring?”     
  


 

* * *

 

 

She hadn’t actually gotten permission, and Coco knew that she was going to be in _so_ much trouble when she got home, but she couldn’t help it. Her Mamá had left her computer open when she went to go help a customer, and it was only 30 seconds of work to click a yes on the permission form. And if her Mamá didn’t want Coco to know her security information, she shouldn’t have been giving it to Coco since she was young, so Coco could help out around the shop. Her Mom had admittedly already sent in a “no”, but Coco knew that she had timed it just right - the teacher would see the “yes”, and assume her Mamá had just changed her mind. Maybe some of the teachers would be suspicious, but with the helter skelter of all the kids lining up to board the buses, it would be easy for her to get lost in the crowd.

 

And besides, she was sixteen. Her mother couldn’t really keep her from field trips _forever_.

 

Rosita had brought some musicals, and Coco was grateful. She knew she wasn’t _supposed_ to listen to music, but really, if watching some kid’s cartoon was as rebellious as Coco got, her Mamá should be grateful.

 

It was a long bus trip to the house. According to Ernesto’s wikipedia page, it was because he had wanted to show his love for the city that helped him flourish. And, to be fair, he did manage to bring in a lot of tourists - both people who loved his music, and people who were fascinated by the way he’d designed his mansion.

 

There was an series of interviews Ernesto had done, playing in a loop on one of the holowalls.

 

_“Your home is a leader in the Smart House movement,” The interviewer said. “A lot of people are trying to reach your level of technological sophistication, but are falling short. Do you have any tips for people trying to automate their own house?”_

 

_“Well, the first thing you must understand,” Ernesto said with his famous smile, “Is that this is something I’ve been dreaming about my whole life, and I’ve been seriously working on the house for the last twelve years. It’s taken a lot of work; a house built to this… Level of sophistication wasn’t built in one day.”_

 

The docent recommended they all download an app, to add to their tour experience, and Coco pulled her phone out as requested. “Oooh,” She muttered, hissing in breath through her teeth. She had… A _lot_ of missed calls from her Mamá. She was dead. So dead. She decided to ignore them; she was going to be in trouble either way, so why not enjoy herself while she could?

 

She was twenty minutes into the tour when she heard a scuffle at the door, but she ignored it; it was probably just some high school boys being stupid. She had her headphones in, and was learning about the underground river that Ernesto got most of his power from when a hand gripped her by the shoulder, and spun her around. It was her Mamá. Coco pulled out of her Mamá’s grip, and took her headphones out, trying to ignore the stares she was getting.

 

“Is there an emergency?” She asked, voice trembling. “Because that’s the only reason I can see for you to interrupt my field trip.”

 

“Socorro Magdalena Rivera, We’ve talked about this,” her Mamá hissed, eyes flicking about, and seeing the same stares Coco did. “ _You’re not allowed to be here_.”  

 

“I’m _sixteen_ ,” Coco said, wrenching herself out of her Mamá’s touch. Her voice was rising, but she couldn’t stop it. “Why can’t I just go on a normal field trip with my friends - for _once_?”

 

“You _know_ why.” Her Mamá snapped.”I _won’t_ have you go down the same path _he_ did!”

 

“Who says I want to?” Her Mamá’s mouth snapped shut. “Maybe I just want answers, did you ever think of that?”

 

“What kind of _answers_ do you need? He _left_ us.” There was sadness in that last, and Coco flinched. She knew he had, she _did_.

 

“I just want to know _why_.” Coco whispered, “And I hoped, since they were friends, I could find something here. I had a _plan_ , I wasn’t just going to go up to Ernesto de la Cruz and go, ‘Hi, I’m your old friend’s daughter, Coco. Remember me?’ I’m not stu-”

 

The lights flickered, then shut off, plunging them all into darkness. Before anyone could panic too much about _that_ , a voice started to come out of all the speakers.

 

_coco remember me coco remember me cocoremember mecoco remember mecocoremembermecocoremembermecocoremembermecocorememberme_

_cocoremembermecocorememberrememberr_ _ememberrememberrememberremember_

_remembermerrememberremember me_

_ç̷̨̫̣̮̘͙̐͋͗͜ǫ̶̨͖̯̯̯̟̜͈̱̈̏͆͗̇̽͐͂͛͆̋̂̽̃̓̕̕͜͠͝c̶̨̛͉͍̳̰̫̱̩̰̤̮̹̝̬̪̻̳̀̏̓̐͗̏̎͊̐͆͜ơ̵̙̯͚̞̟̍̄̿̓̅͗͋̅̏̏̕̚͘ ̵̢̡̨̩͎͉̜͎͉͚͔̱̱̟̰̦̮͍̟̻̐̓͌̈́̾̈͛̎͗̍̆̈́͐͑̉͘ŗ̵̧̺͈̙̞͓̳̙͙͕̰̮̥͕̅͊̿̈́ȇ̵͕̗̻͚͕̫̫̯̰̪̱̉̇͋̑̌̏̆̈́̍̕͝ḿ̶̢̝̘͈̻͉̺̖͔̻̬͜͜ͅe̴̢̟͈̫̦̖̣͉̜̎̂̿͘͜m̵̧̢͚̹̠̱͉̩̠͉̱̥̺͚̺͙̙̉͑͌͛̈́̇̌̉̎͗̈̐̑̈́̓͂̎͝b̴̧̠̤̱̞͈͈̖̬̟̗͉̗̑̔͆̄͑͗̐̈͂̐̕̚͜͜ȩ̸̧̛̛̤͇͇̪̥̘̻͖̄͛̑̅̀͌͂̒͒̇͒̒̈́͘͘͝r̷̡̤̫̦͚̫̫͖͔̭̰͍͔̈́̑͒̇̂̂͘͝ ̴̨̡̛̱̥̞͇̦͉̝̙̭͈̲͍̝͍̙͕̞͊͐̈̉̉̄́͋͑̕͝ͅm̵̜̺̿̌̎̔͗̆̈̈́̈́̄̽̔̓̇͗͐̍̊̈́̐e̴̗͉̙͚̿͋̋̒͑͛̄͘͘̚_

 

The voice twisted, and overlapped, playing like a skipped record all while repeating the same three words over and over and over again. From the holowall came a video of Ernesto de la Cruz singing the song in question, but it was autotuned until it was the tune from Coco’s childhood, and she couldn’t help the quiet “ _oh, shit,_ ” that came out of her mouth.

 

A single voice cut through the rest.

 

 _Find me_  

 

* * *

 

Imelda and Coco were the only ones in the house by the time the cops got there. The house had sent the rest of them out, shutting and locking specific doors, projecting humanoid figures on the holowalls, and threatening those who wouldn’t leave with the anti-invader equipment Ernesto insisted on installing. Imelda had stayed in, and to her frustration, Coco had joined her.

 

“I need to know why it’s saying my name,” Coco said, as the two of them waited for backup. Imelda was, after all, curious - not _stupid_. She hadn’t even had to call the cops herself, someone else had been nice enough to do that for her. And so they waited, on edge, in one of Ernesto’s showier - as if there was any other kind - sitting rooms. Soon, there was a knock at the door, and the house opened it’s door to allow two of the police officers in, as well as a Camera Operational Police bot.

 

“We’re being held hostage,” Imelda said gravely, looking very little like a hostage. “We have to find out what this AI wants, and he’ll let us leave.”

 

“We did call for a forensic programmer,” One of the cops said. Her nametag read Officer Yuridia. “And we tried to contact Ernesto de la Cruz, but we can’t get a hold of him.”

 

 _He’s in the panic room_ , a voice echoes through the speakers, and Imelda flinches. “Can you stop that?” She snaps.

 

 _Sorry_ the voice says, and a holowall begins to glow until a vaguely humanoid shape is projected from it. “Is this better?”

 

Imelda can’t help the sharp intake of breath, but she nods, trying to ignore the pounding of her heart.

 

“I need you to see something.” The figure says, his form shifting and changing as he slides along walls. The cops look like they want to say something, but Imelda lifts her chin, and follows.

 

“We need to get you out of here.” The other officer, Officer Nicolás said.

 

“Keep up,” Imelda says instead, moving forward to follow the light, Coco following. “No one has been hurt, we paid to come in, we’re just guests.”

 

“You just said you’re hostages,” Officer Yuridia pointed out.

 

“We have you as backup, don’t we?” Imelda snapped.

 

“Maybe we’ll get lucky, and this time the COPbot won’t get hacked,” Officer Nicolás said quietly, as they followed. “It would be nice if we could get the video to the courts first for _once_.”  

 

They keep following the holographic figure, forming a strange little parade. Eventually they got to an elevator, and the down arrow started to glow, the man vanishing. Imelda stepped into the elevator, Coco barely a half step behind them. The police following after, warily.

 

“How far down are we going?” Coco asked the house.

 

“The basement,” The elevator speaker said, and true to it’s word, the door opened. In front of them was a bank of computers, though only a few monitors.

 

“What is this place?” Imelda asked.

 

 _It’s the programming center of the house_ the voice says, with no wall to project from. _And through those doors is where he keeps the main network. Project HÉCTOR._

 

* * *

  

The COPbot gets hacked before they even leave the house, and soon the video is everywhere. Even the porn websites get in on it, posting it with titles like _Ernesto de la Cruz Fucks Entire Family_.

 

None of the videos start the same; enterprising hackers had taken advantage of the uproar to try their skills against the famous _Ernesto de la Cruz Smart House™_ , and with the HÉCTOR program unlocked, it was a piece of cake.

 

There is one scene all the videos show.

 

It’s the moment when the lights go on. When everyone takes a moment adjust to the brightness. When the woman the internet will later identify as Imelda Rivera sees the man in the bed. He’s death itself; he looks more like a refugee then anyone who should be in Ernesto de la Cruz’s house. His skin is stretched tightly across his frame. The only proof he’s alive is the machine keeping him so. It looks like the back of his skull was removed, and in it’s place a metal framework with wires extending to all parts of the room. There’s a beat, then she walks up to the bed, and just _crumples_ to the ground.

 

No matter which angle the cameras were coming from, the look on her face was pure _heartbreak_ as she let out a sob loud enough to be picked up on even the police radios.      

 

* * *

     

The trial was packed. With so many cameras, so much _proof_ , it was hard for Ernesto de la Cruz’s lawyers to claim he didn’t know about it. Especially with so many interviews were he claimed he was the sole creator of the house’s AI. Instead, they tried to spread the culpability, like one might spread fertilizer. They tried to claim that Imelda had been in on it, had known the whole time, had received a _payout_.

 

But years of bank transactions proved them wrong.

 

They tried to claim that Héctor had agreed to it, that he’d _consented_ , because - and the reason changed depending on the day - he was dying of a terminal illness, he was suicidal, he wanted to become transcendent.

 

The doctors who looked at him shot down the first excuse, and the second two were struck as being speculation without evidence.

 

“We could find no evidence of a past terminal illness,” Doctor Hernandez testified.

 

“A _past_ terminal illness?” The lawyer asked. “What about presently?”

 

Doctor Hernandez pause a moment before she spoke. “Since being removed from the de la Cruz estate, the neural network ports in his head have become infected. We looked into them, and we believe they were black market, so they came with none of the protective coatings, and we’re not sure who did the surgery. He was kept from getting an infection this long by having him stay in a sterile environment.”

 

“What is your prognosis? Do you believe he can be healed from this?”

 

“No.” The doctor said, and the camera caught Imelda Rivera with tears running down her face. “He’s heavily emaciated, and his immune system was weakened as a result. But honestly? Due to the years of neglect… I don’t think he would have lasted much longer, even if he hadn’t been found.”    

 

 

* * *

 

The worst part of the trial, at least, according to the de la Cruz lawyers, was when the Judge ruled that the HÉCTOR program would be allowed to testify.

 

“For years,” The Judge wrote in his ruling, “Ernesto de la Cruz claimed that his house was run by an artificial intelligence program. The Forensic Programmers have gone through and found that the entirety of the HÉCTOR program was actually a neural network run through various locks to prevent Héctor Rivera from ever letting anyone know what had happened to him. Héctor Rivera is near death, the HÉCTOR program is the only way we have to interview the victim, and we have never refused to interview the victim before.”

 

* * *

 

The first question, “Are you Héctor Rivera?” Caused the lights flickering over the hologram stand to blink in different colors. The hologram was shaped like a person, but fuzzy around the edges. The only things distinct were his ears and his nose. 

“I’m not sure.” The program said. “I think I might just be what’s left of him.”

 

* * *

 

Throughout it all, Imelda Rivera appeared to be a pillar of strength, cracking on the stand only once.

 

“What will you do with your husband after this?” The prosecutor asked.

 

“Whatever the doctor recommends.” She replied.

 

“And if they recommend taking him off life support?”

 

“If that’s what they think would be best,” She said, voice dropping.

 

“Do you _want_ to kill your husband, Señora Rivera?”

 

“How _dare_ you!” She snapped, “I want him back with me more than _anything_.” She seemed to collapse in on herself on the witness stand. “I miss him, and if I knew any way to keep him alive, I would do it.”

 

“You could keep the HÉCTOR Program around.”

 

“But if I did that, my husband would have to be kept alive to keep the neural network going. He’d be forced to _suffer_. I can’t… I can’t do that to him. _I can’t_.” Her voice broke, and world saw her tears. If the lawyer had hoped that that would make Ernesto look sympathetic...

 

Ernesto was found guilty.

 

* * *

  

“I’m sorry,” The lights said, swarming and swirling to form a humanoid shape over the hologram stand.  

 

“It’s all right. You’ll be fine.” Imelda replied, one hand on his face as if they could really touch.

 

“I don’t think I will be.” The HÉCTOR program responded, the lights forming a hand, and covering hers. “I’m not really him, you know. I wish I could be. I know that he loves you.”  

 

Imelda sobbed at that, staying standing only by sheer force of will. She had just found him again, why did she have to lose him so soon?

 

“Will it hurt?” She asked, ashamed of how her voice trembled.

 

“You won’t hurt me.” She stared up at him. “You’ll never hurt me.” He said again. “But you’ll hurt yourself.”

 

“I know.” Imelda said, swallowing hard. “Goodbye, mí amor.” She nodded at the nurse, and the machines keeping Héctor’s body alive were turned off, one by one. She kept her hand to the face formed by light even as the neural network shut down, and the hologram began to degrade.

 

“Goodbye, mí amor,” He responded, leaning forward to give her one last intangible kiss before fading away, until soon the room was silent.     
  



End file.
